


fool, reversed

by atramento



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arranged Marriage, Extramarital Affairs, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder, Pre-Canon, Time Skips, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atramento/pseuds/atramento
Summary: I started to cry which started the whole world laughing / Oh If I'd only seen that the joke was on me
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. the wedding

The corset felt rigid on her body; Elaisse was somewhat constricted in her movement. But that was the entirety of this event, was it not? 

An arrangement, a promise made when Elaisse was but a girl. Words that had fluttered past as petals to coquettish ears and now were returning, along with the soldiers, with a renewed bitter. She had met Lord Thadalfus once or twice before-- when they were both children.

Even then he had been a plain, sordid fellow-- scowling at her from beside his father's legs. Little Elaisse always thought he would bald early, he was so serious. She would giggle at this imagination or another, though he never would. Stoic... and for what?

"Draw your breath in, dearie. My, you're troubled to fit in this dress! We _must_ cut back on those sweets!" The maid clucked, a soft chuckle accompanying her words. "And you're such a young thing, this dress should fit like butter on a slice of toast!" Elaisse gave a half-hearted noise in response. She did not feel up to talking much less explaining herself.

Every sensation, every intake of air felt wrong. _That is what you get for being a wastrel Elaisse_ , she scolded herself inwardly. Last night was hardly the time to drink. Especially now when--

Her thoughts were cut off by the distant voices of men. Men, who had always passed Elaisse between their hands. Her grandfather to her father to her liege to her fiancee-- Elaisse tried to listen through the dull throbbing haze of her hungover headache. Maybe she would learn something important. Hah, as if. 

"....you on your wedding, Lord Thadalfus." That was the voice of Messam Elmdore. Elaisse repressed a longing sigh. _Too easy, girl, you might slip up yet._

"My thanks, my lord." A drier voice. Her "husband's" voice no doubt. He sounded like the reeds of Lake Poescas when they dried out with the lake and began rubbing against one another in winded desperation. "I am most excited to see my bride in her dress. I was told no expense was spared in its creation." 

Their footfalls and words passed as quickly as the wretched feeling of disgust Elaisse felt pit in her stomach. 

"Now I know he's not the wealthiest..." The maid opened her mouth and Elaisse wanted to command her to silence. But this woman served her father and mother, not Elaisse herself. Shame. "But Lord Thadalfus is a man of ambition and conviction. He has morals and he sticks to them, wouldn't you know it?" 

"I look forward to seeing his conviction." Elaisse replied, instantly loathing the crackle in her voice. Every time it was there, every instance she drank. She would never learn would she? The maid rose a brow as well. "As my husband," Elaisse adds airily. "He's bound to have forward thinking in store for Limberry." This made the Maid's brow droop back and she smiled. Good, an approved answer.

Elaisse, always the good girl.


	2. the child

It was morning when Elaisse awoke seven months after her nuptials. She had not imbibed any alcohol since then, of that she was minutely proud. But there was such an aching all over that she nearly wished to order a bottle be brought for her leisurely consumption. Oh right, _Lord_ Thadalfus her husband had one servant to his name-- and that was his elderly butler. She figured he stayed because he had no other place to go; no family. 

She would have pitied him more if she too was not left in this dusty old manse to rot away with the rest of the Thadalfus fame and fortune. 

"Where's my child?" She looked around, seeing no one. This would not do. "Where's my child?!" She repeated with more force, which finally made the mousy head of a nursemaid appear. "You--" She points a finger at this girl. "Where rests my newborn?" Elaisse was impatient; also hoping to the God she never prayed to that the babe was still alive for her to see. 

"He... L-Lord Thadalfus wanted you to rest last night." She replied, shaking at the force of Elaisse's growing glower. "The b-birth was laborious after all, little Argath was-- eep!" The nursemaid squeaked, stepping back as Elaisse struggles to her feet out of bed.

Argath? Who the hell was Argath and why had her son been named after him?! "Where is he." Elaisse grumbled, feeling naught but contempt. Argath. Argath. _Argath_... This had the stench of her husband's doing all over it. Of course he would name a child something so harsh, so unlovable. Just like himself.

The noblewoman was livid as she stomped around the manse, ignoring the nursemaid's pleas for her to return abed. "I shall only return to bed," She finally sniped. "When my husband explains himself! Why was I not jostled awake for the naming of my own child?!" 

"You were exhausted, my lady..." The nurse repeated, most likely grateful she did not serve this miserable union of man and wife. Elaisse might have hated her a bit at the moment for that.

"Lord Thadalfus thought it best for you to recover. Your son--" She replied with more tact this time, good. "--was not an easy birth. The boy was at least nine pounds upon a-arrival!" Elaisse's eyes widened a bit. She had not realized her own son was that heavy. Was it perhaps his father's side...? 

It was no matter. The boy had been named without her; a sly theft of Lord Thadalfus's doing. And the more she led the nursemaid around the manse, the more angered her words became before they had even been spoken. 

"Ah, my wife. You are finally awake." He was reclined against a wall, the crib brought to them by Elaisse's mother empty. In his arms, the frail bundle of her son. His fat fingers were reaching out towards a face that held nothing but smug contempt. His eyes turn predatorially towards the nursemaid. "You are dismissed." 

She nodded, relief clouding her face as she strutted out at a quickened pace.

There was a momentary silence where Elaisse glowered holes in her husband's head as he smiled down at the helpless bundle in his arms. Ignoring the clear lack of affection in his visage one could mistake Lord Thadalfus for the proud, loving father of a newborn he was not.

"...Tell me, Elaisse." He does not look up from Argath. "...Our son is rather healthy. But err... I do have a question concerning him." His brows knit dangerously. Elaisse feels a gulf emerge in her stomach, fearing for the newborn in his hands. 

"Why is our son's eyes blue when neither of us _have_ blue eyes, hmmm?" His bony fingers push back the singular curl on Argath's little head. Smile still intact but never had any warmth to it. Elaisse considered screaming the truth.

_He's not your son! He never will be! You rotten, stale cheese man!_

But good little Elaisse was smarter than to outburst. "It must be from back in my family... An ancestor with blue eyes or some sort." Her own brown eyes narrow. "Why did you not wake me up to name... him?" 

Lord Thadalfus shrugs, as if it were the easiest decision he has made. Perhaps it was; Elaisse figured he did it out of spite. He must have known the boy was not his, why else would he be acting this way except to try and corral Elaisse with fear? "You were tired, love." He steps forward, eyelids drooped. "So utterly tired... And I figured Argath was the perfect name." He hands the babe over to Elaisse and a part of the gulf of anxiety closes. 

His smirk turns absolutely nasty. "Argath means outcast, by the by. Perfect name for disobedient chocobos-- or perhaps for the babes of disobedient _wives_." He leans in close to her mid-passing.

"Everyone will know this child does not belong. Everyone will know... what _you_ have wrought. You, Elaisse. Not I." Lord Thadalfus passes the shaking form of an angry Elaisse as she now struggles to hold the weight of her son, smug in all that he accomplished today.


End file.
